


In the Pouring Rain

by EllenOfOz, TrenchcoatBaby



Series: Profound Magic [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Castiel and Dean Winchester Have a Profound Bond, Castiel and Dean Winchester Use Their Words, Desk Sex, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, No Angst, Office Sex, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Professor Dean Winchester, Timestamp, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22663411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EllenOfOz/pseuds/EllenOfOz, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrenchcoatBaby/pseuds/TrenchcoatBaby
Summary: It’s Dean and Castiel’s third year together, and they’re more in love than ever—even if their schedules don't allow for much romance. Thankfully, Valentine's Day just might be the perfect time to reconnect…All Dean has to do is pull off an ambitious bit of magic.Nothing can go wrong.(A Valentine's Day timestamp forThe Closest Thing We Have to Magic—contains spoilers for the main fic)
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: Profound Magic [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1630498
Comments: 60
Kudos: 283





	In the Pouring Rain

**Author's Note:**

> TCB: Hey Ellen, you know what I miss?
> 
> Ellen: Hmm, let me guess—two magical professors, by any chance?
> 
> TCB: Well, I was going to say writing with you, but I think our boys are a close second!
> 
> Ellen: Aw, me too on both counts! So we decided we had to join forces again to bring you all a little adventure for Valentine's day.
> 
> TCB: Yes, and what an adventure it is! We want to gift this sweet, smutty timestamp to our very own galantines—our besties and betas, who were there for the boys at the [beginning of their journey](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18519016). We love you WaywardJenn, WaywardAF67, CBFirestarter, and Lorelei2005, and we couldn't have persevered without you.
> 
> Ellen: We love you girls! Plus an additional dedication and thank you to MandalaRose, who became an extra awesome beta and friend along the way (and also proofread this timestamp for us). Mwah!
> 
> TCB: Well said! So, Happy Valentine’s Day, all! We hope your holiday is filled with love, friendship, a whole lot of magic. ❤️

Castiel runs his fingers lightly over the back of Dean's hand where it rests on the table, smiling as Dean’s magic responds to his touch, warming his fingertips and buzzing up through his wrist. His fiancé barely reacts, though, continuing his conversation with Charlie across the table.

“The little fuckers know I’m going to let them get away with shit, so they play it up every damn time,” he says, picking up his beer to take an exasperated swallow from the bottle.

Charlie’s grinning as she teases him, “Aw, Mister Winchester, the soft touch.”

“Seriously, I had my teacher face on and everything! Didn’t matter. Those assholes kept on pulling water out of the air to throw at each other.”

Castiel smiles. Charlie had dragged them both out for after-work drinks on this Friday night, stating that they both work much too hard and need to “let loose”, whatever that means. Dean certainly has been stressed lately—Castiel has barely seen him, between classes and the extra work among the community Dean does with Anna and Anael. Castiel is proud of him, certainly, but the heady days before the school opened where it had just been the two of them, enjoying each other’s company and planning their eventual wedding seem long ago now. 

Castiel doesn’t teach many classes himself these days, being mostly involved in the running of the school itself as well as a little industrial sabotage on the side (Rowena hasn’t been quiet about reestablishing a Well, after all), but he knows these students and how much they enjoy classes with Dean. In fact, many of them were recruited from the erstwhile Lay Magicians’ Resistance network, so Dean’s almost a celebrity to them. And that means they like to press his buttons. 

Castiel speaks up. “Perhaps we need some way for them to let off steam? This winter has been hard on everyone.” 

Even though much of the country (and Castiel’s sure, the campus of Stanford’s School of the Occult) has been trapped under heavy snowstorms for on and off for the last few weeks, the Novak Institute of Magic has merely been besieged by the Californian rain. Castiel doesn’t think he’s seen the sun since before the holidays, and the rainy weather was making everyone in the Institute antsy. There’s a restless magical energy about the place—too much elemental water, perhaps, or not enough.

As much as Castiel knows he and Dean could do something about the storms rolling off the ocean, they’d been burned before with making it snow in Palo Alto. Best to let the weather do its thing.

Charlie looks back to him from where she’d been staring at the warm sunlit forest in the magical scene behind the bar, then her eyes light up. “It’s Valentine’s Day in a couple of weeks. Why don’t we hold a ball or something? Give them something to dress up for?”

“I dunno, Charlie, I feel like we’d need more than two weeks to put something like that together.” Dean frowns. “Although our fearless Principal here does look pretty tasty dressed up in a tux,” he adds, turning heated eyes on Castiel.

Castiel watches him with a warm feeling in his chest, until Charlie clears her throat. 

“Don’t start that guys, come on. Jeez, it’s bad enough I have to watch you do it at school, but it’s ten times worse after you’ve had a few drinks!”

Dean laughs, then throws back the last of his beer. He gets to his feet. “You want another?” he asks, heading over to the bar when they both agree. 

Castiel watches him go, admiring the way his broad shoulders fill out the new leather jacket Dean recently bought. He’d been so excited about it— _just like one Dad used to have!_ he’d enthused. Castiel had bit his tongue at that comment—he’d never thought much of Dean’s father, based on the stories he and Sam had told. In any case, this was the first time he’d got a good look at Dean like this in a few weeks. The jacket showed off the work Dean had been doing in the school gym, and... Charlie was waving a hand in front of his eyes. He blinked and turned to look into her incredulous face. 

“You there, Cas?” She laughs. “Can’t believe the heart eyes on you two, after all this time. Sam was right. You two really need to set a date already.”

“Can't help it if he's distracting,” Castiel replies, draining his own beer to hide his flushed face. He adds, “And no, we haven’t made any decisions yet. Sometime later in the year, we think.” He really needs to get their choices for venue out again, see if he can pin Dean down to something. There just always seem to be so many other things to do, and they haven't seen much of Sam at all since he moved in with his girlfriend, Jess. He misses the taller Winchester, even though he knows he's doing well at his law school. 

He looks back up at Charlie. “Sorry, what were you saying?”

Charlie shakes her head, still grinning. “I was just saying that we used to do all kinds of cute things for V-day at my high school, even though I was never allowed to give things to who I wanted to give them to.”

Castiel tilts his head, curious. “You weren’t?”

“The girls school I went to didn’t exactly champion queer rights,” she says, shrugging. “It was fine, I just gave roses out after school to my girls, along with a little extra something.” She clicks her fingers and pink sparks shoot out around her hand. 

Castiel can’t help but flinch at her casual display of magic. He’s glad that Charlie’s magic levels have come down significantly since the Well collapsed. For a while there, the residual energy might have made that finger snap like a bomb going off. “Charlie, what did you do to those girls?” Castiel asks, not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Just a little love spell, nothing too fancy,” she says quickly. “Usually did the trick, though!”

“What’s fancy?” Dean asks, setting three beer bottles down on the table between them. 

“Just telling Cas about how we used to give roses for Valentine’s at my old school,” Charlie explains.

“Oh yeah, we used to do that as well. I don’t even know where they got roses from at this time of year. Probably shipped them in from the Bahamas or something,” Dean says, taking his seat again.

Castiel frowns, lost in thought. Perhaps this is a way that the students can burn off some magical energy in the winter days. “It’s a sweet idea, but we’d never get roses delivered in time. But perhaps we could…” He pauses, pulling a pen out of his pocket and holding it vertically. He twists his wrist, pulling in the elements from the room around them. It’s not quite the same as the process had been a few years ago when the Well was still operational—nowadays elemental magic has spread and settled back across the country, as it naturally wants to do. Some places are more thick with it than others—in fact, part of the reason Castiel and Dean bought the house that was to become Novak Institute was because of the high concentration of earth and water magic around the property. 

But here, at the Mana Bar in the heart of Palo Alto, magic is plentiful enough to allow him to use it, at least temporarily. He pulls the water up from his glass, carefully shaping petals around the pen “stem”, then blowing on the finished product to tinge it pink. The watery flower glitters in the overhead lights, not looking exactly like a rose, but close enough. Castiel looks up to see surprise and delight on both Charlie and Dean’s faces.

He passes the pen with its transparent rose to Dean. “For you,” he says, then grimaces as the rose petals wobble a little in place. 

Dean reaches out to grasp the pen. With a look of concentration on his face, he moves his palm around the outside of the rose. It stops moving with a small creaking sound, now solid ice. 

Charlie gasps. “You guys! This is brilliant—we might not be able to order real roses in time for the big day, but we can certainly help the students to conjure up a load of ice roses!”

Dean grins at her. “Maybe they could deliver a message as the rose melts? This charm won’t last forever, especially inside. That place can be toasty.”

Castiel nods. “We can certainly get that together. I’ll send something out about it on Monday. Remind me, Dean?” 

Dean snorts. “Send yourself a reminder, dumbass. You know my memory is as bad as yours for stuff like that.”

Castiel rolls his eyes, but pulls out his phone and taps away for a few moments. A crack and shatter makes him look up in surprise. Tiny shards of ice are all over the table between the three of them, and Dean is sheepishly holding the pen. 

He passes the pen back to Castiel. “Might need to work on the structure a little before then, though,” he says.

xoxoxo

After classes are over on February fourteenth, Castiel hurries from his classroom, following his students along the corridors to the main hall. The gray afternoon hasn’t lifted, streams of rain running down the windows. He really hopes their little Valentine’s day activity is going to pick up some spirits for everyone.

He wonders where Dean’s got to—he’d left their apartment early that morning, heading out to pick up the supplies he’d ordered for the roses, and Castiel hadn’t seen him for the rest of the day. Even at lunch time, when they usually managed to hook up for a bite to eat (or on occasion, to sneak upstairs for a quickie), Dean hadn’t been around the cafeteria. He’s been worried about Dean for a little while now, if he’s honest, a stressed undercurrent to his magic that grates along their bond and makes Castiel long to soothe him, but most of the time, they have places to be. He assumes—and hopes—he’ll be in the hall with Charlie, helping with the roses. He’ll have to try to make it all up to Dean tonight.

Castiel enters the hall to mayhem. Students are milling around, casting watery blobs up into the air, trying to form flowers around the small wooden sticks Dean had brought in. Some have managed to get it, only to have their ice rose shatter all over the floor when they try to freeze it. 

Charlie stands in the middle of it all, helping students to pull in the energy around them to form the flower. Dean’s nowhere to be seen.

Charlie is frantically explaining the process to a group of newcomers when Castiel approaches.

“Just pull the water energy in, and visualise the shape of the petals you want to create, like this, okay?” She pulls water into large petals in front of her, while the students look on in confusion.

Castiel looks on for a moment, thinking they’re going to have to teach some more conjuration classes next term. Some students are getting it, but there are plenty more struggling. 

As Charlie sends the gaggle of students off to try casting roses for themselves, Castiel steps forward and touches her elbow gently before she can look around for someone else to help. 

“Charlie, could I have a moment?” When she turns wild eyes on him, he steps back a bit. Charlie can get a little scary when stressed. He adds, “Have you seen Dean?”

“No, but if you find him, tell him to beam his lazy ass down here. This freaking spell is too complicated.”

Castiel hesitates. He wants to find Dean, but he also can’t just leave Charlie here alone. He looks around at the students trying to cast spells over the huge tubs of water. “It’s only as complicated as you make it. Here, let me show you all.” He picks up one of the wooden stems.

Students gather around as Castiel pulls the water up from the nearest tub, forming it into blobby shapes around the stem. It almost looks like a cartoon flower after he casts the freezing component of the spell. “Don’t forget to add a message if you want to while you’re freezing it,” he says, then looks critically at his flower. “Hm, it’s not exactly a picture, is it?” 

The students standing around him chuckle, the crowd a little bigger now as word passes around that Dr. Novak is demonstrating. 

Castiel speaks up a little. “This is just the draft—the secret is always in the editing,” he explains. “Water has memory, remember? You’ve all seen that _Frozen_ movie, right?”

Some of the students laugh and call out their agreement, while others only look confused.

Castiel continues, “So let’s remind this water what a rose looks like. Visualize the rose in your mind, and—” he twists his fingers, and the ice melts at the edges and reforms, forming individual layered petals, “— _voilà_.”

"You make it look so easy, Doc," Krissy says from nearby, giving Castiel a cheeky grin when he looks over at her. He smiles, noticing she already has one perfect ice rose tucked behind her ear. Castiel had been overjoyed when Krissy had been among the first to enrol in the Institute. She’s a gifted magician, and has grasped elemental magic faster than he’d ever expected her to. Stanford doesn't know what it's missing. 

The spell is actually a little more complex than how he explained, but Charlie had told him she and Dean had been working on the conjuration in their classes this week so he knows the concept isn’t entirely new to many of them. The intricacies of conscious thoughts affecting mechanics of spellcasting is more Dean’s speciality than Castiel’s. Speaking of Dean…he really should go and see if he’s upstairs. They've both been working too hard lately—he hopes Dean is okay.

Helping the students to create their roses and head off to find their valentines takes another half-hour or so, and by the time he and Charlie have tidied up the now-empty tubs and evaporated the spilt water from the floor of the hall, it’s dark outside the tall windows. Castiel checks his phone to see a message.

Dean 5:20 PM << **Where are you babe? Come up to your office**

Castiel squints at the text, wondering what the hell Dean is up to. He bids Charlie a good night with Dorothy, and heads out of the hall and into a now quiet corridor. 

He hurries into the wing housing the staff offices, heading for his own, when he feels it—a huge surge of magic, and he’s almost sure it’s somewhere above him. He walks faster, wondering what’s going on.

He teleports up a level, trying to pinpoint where the surge of magic is coming from—it appears to be concentrated somewhere along this corridor on the third floor.

As he hurries along the corridor towards his office, he picks up an inkling, a wavelength, of the magic emanating from the disturbance ahead. It’s Dean—his magical flavor is unmistakable. Something is going on in his office, and Dean is in the middle of it. 

Castiel has an awful flashback to the day they brought the seal down, a few years ago now, but Dean had been elbows-deep in the magic of the seal, the look of despair on his face as they gave over control of the seal to Crowley. Castiel had nightmares about that day for months after it had happened, and they still haven’t gone away completely. 

A burning panic starts clawing at his throat, and he teleports along the corridor in bursts, pushing past the security wards they'd put in place. The end of the Well at Stanford was so long ago now, and they've been safe for this long, but if Dean has somehow got himself into danger…

Well, there’s only one thing he’ll be able to do, and that’s drag Dean out of it again, even if he’s kicking and screaming. 

He reaches his office door and throws it open, his jaw dropping as he sees the interior. 

Dean stands in the middle of the room, holding what appears to be a large bouquet of glittering ice roses in his arms. His eyes light up as he sees Castiel standing in the doorway, then his expression gives way to alarm as the surge comes again. 

The energy around the roses Dean’s holding is immense, as though they’re ten times larger than they appear, an aura swirling around the room, around Dean, and accelerating. The spell, whatever it is, is unstable.

Castiel darts forward, grabs the ice flowers from Dean and throws them into the air, trying to cast a hasty shielded container around them, but he’s too late. The whole spell loses integrity and explodes, sending them both flying backwards across the room.

xoxoxo

Dean’s back collides with the floor, neck craning against a stack of books now tumbling down alongside him. Fuck, the impact of that shield charm Castiel cast really knocked them on their ass. It’s been a while since they’ve done anything experimental enough to be surprised by the magical impact, and Dean groans and twists his back, realizing belatedly that he’s fallen into Crowley’s old copy of _The Complete Encyclopedic History of 20th Century Magic Regulation in the US_. Huh. Dean almost chuckles—it’s bizarre that a book they spent so long searching for, that held the key to so many mysteries about the Seal and the Well and Dean’s magical lineage, is just lying here in a stack in Cas’ office.

Oh yeah. _Cas._

“Babe?” Dean groans, rising unstably to his feet. He spots his fiancé on the other end of the office, pushed into a shelf with a framed picture of them knocked over. Dean takes a large step in that direction, intending to help Cas to his feet, when he feels it. 

A water droplet. 

He looks up just as it begins to rain. The elemental magic present in the crystalized ice bouquet has shattered, Dean realizes with sudden dread. But somehow, while the compound broke down it also began to melt. Not just melt, really, but—pour. The ceiling of Castiel’s office is raining down on them in large and unyielding droplets, and Dean has no clue how the hell to stop it. 

“Shit,” he mutters, giving Cas a hand up and pulling him to his feet. Castiel’s face isn’t anything but surprised, clearly taken aback by this development. “Well, I fucked that up. Sorry, Cas.” 

“What…?” Castiel looks around wildly, his hair starting to dampen as the rain continues. “What were you doing in here?”

“Uh…” Dean scratches the back of his neck, feeling about as foolish as one can possibly feel. Isn’t he supposed to be a freaking _professor_ here? How can he still be making such dumb mistakes? “I was trying to surprise you with a whole damn dozen of those ice roses. But everyone’s been drawing on the elemental magic today more than usual, thanks to Charlie’s lessons. I must’ve used too much at once and not conjured up a big enough Delambre container for the excess, so then this…” He glares up at the raining ceiling as if it personally offends him. “…happened. Looks like the shield charm you cast expanded inside your office, though, so all your stuff is dry.”

To prove his point, Dean reaches for a notepad on Castiel’s desk—the top page full of a daunting to-do list. Even as the rain beats down, the ink doesn’t smudge. The only thing getting wet in this office is Dean and Castiel, it seems, since the blast of the charm pushed them away rather than covering them.

“Oh, Dean…” Castiel places a hand on Dean’s neck, warm and solid as the rain continues falling. “The roses would’ve been a sweet gesture, but quite unnecessary.” 

“Unnecessary?” Dean repeats, feeling the back of his throat burn with sudden emotion. “It’s Valentine’s Day, Cas, and even though we work together and live together, I feel like I barely get to see you sometimes. Like…”

Castiel frowns and steps closer, his hands falling to Dean’s waist naturally. “Like what?”

“Like we’re marrying our work instead of each other,” Dean mutters, sounding much more pitiful than he intended. 

He can’t fight against the sweeping feeling of uncertainty flowing through his chest—he’s felt this way for several weeks now, since the spring semester started, really. But he hasn’t wanted to ruin what alone time they do have by moping. He figured a romantic grand gesture might be enough to soothe the waters, but now it’s done the exact opposite—it’s brought the waters falling, literally, onto their heads. 

Castiel bats his eyelashes, a droplet clinging to the edge that Dean shifts away with his finger. His frown is deep-set now as he steps closer to Dean, worry etched in every line on his forehead. “Do you really…feel that way?”

Dean’s cheeks burn red, looking down at his shoes. “No, I–I dunno. I just know I miss you.” His gaze meets Castiel’s again momentarily, but he can’t stand to see the drooping disappointment in Cas’ eyes, so he looks back up at the ceiling. “We should fix the ceiling. I’m thinking a suspension spell—”

“I don’t care about the ceiling, Dean. The ceiling can wait all night if it has to,” Castiel interrupts firmly. He cups Dean’s face in his hands, leaning close until their foreheads brush. “What I do care about is talking this through. Talk to me, please.”

Dean closes his eyes steadily, his flannel shirt sticking to his back as the cotton dampens. “I don’t wanna sound whiny,” he admits. Castiel gives him a small smile—it’s likely that a witty comeback is on the tip of his tongue about how Dean usually doesn’t mind whining—but he just nods encouragingly for Dean to continue. “We just haven’t had a date night since Christmas. We grade papers during dinner. What time we do have, we spend with Sammy and Jess or Charlie and Dorothy. Half the time, you fall asleep before I even make it to bed. I just…” His voice shakes a little but he opens his eyes, forcing himself to keep talking. “You and I are bonded, Cas, so feeling distant from you feels a lot like starving.”

Castiel inhales sharply, wrapping his arms tightly around Dean and kissing his temple. “Oh, Dean, I’m so—”

“No, no, don’t say it. I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Dean interrupts desperately, pushing away for a moment to look in Castiel’s eyes. “I love the school. I love our family and our friends. I love our responsibilities, I really do, I just…” Dean bites his lip, tasting the rain. “Is it selfish to say I love you more?” 

Castiel rubs his thumb into the side of Dean’s cheek, smiling at him sweetly. “Three years together, and I’m still blown away by you.” He leans forward, his lips touching the tip of Dean’s nose. “I love you, Dean Winchester. And if life gets in the way of you knowing that, please, feel free to get my attention again by making it rain in my office.”

Dean chuckles a little, feeling a warmth settle inside his chest—sinking into his fingers and toes. The bond glows between them and Dean sighs contentedly, resting his head on Castiel’s shoulder as they hold each other. They stand there, linked together and pressed closely, and it feels so nice to be together and doing _nothing_ that Dean feels an absurd amount of giddiness. 

After some time passes—it could be three minutes or fifteen—Dean lifts his head, searching Castiel’s eyes. 

“Guess we oughta take care of this,” he says, looking up at the rain and wincing slightly. He reaches forward and runs a hand through Castiel’s wet hair, making it messier on purpose and grinning. “Gotta say, though, you do the whole ‘wet and rainy’ look alotta justice.”

“Oh?” Castiel says, a tone of mischief in his voice now. 

“Oh yeah,” Dean confirms, looking Castiel up and down without a shred of shame. He plants his palm against Castiel’s chest, the white button-up shirt clinging and transparent against Cas’ skin. Dean can see the distinct nub of Cas’ nipple through the shirt, and he flicks his thumb against it tenderly. Castiel hums in the back of his throat, evidently caught off-guard for a moment. “Like this,” Dean mutters, flicking against Castiel’s nipple with more intention now. “Pretty hot.”

“Hmm…hot like…” Castiel tilts Dean’s neck down, licking the raindrops off his skin with quick kitten licks. Dean shudders as Castiel begins pushing him backwards, until his back collides with the wall. Castiel sucks on his neck with delicious pressure and Dean begins unbuttoning Castiel’s shirt, frantic to feel more of that slick, rainy skin. He just manages to strip Cas of his shirt, his thin undershirt so tight and wet that it looks borderline unholy, when Cas’ lips begin to move up from his neck to his ear, scraping his earlobe with a quick nip of his teeth. Dean groans and widens his stance, letting Cas more easily between his legs as their cocks begin showing interest in what’s happening. Castiel’s lips are on a mission, it seems, as they travel up to his chin, his cheeks, until finally Dean has had enough teasing and grabs the back of Cas’ neck, slamming their lips together. They both moan into the kiss, though it’s close-mouthed and otherwise tame. Castiel opens his mouth wider and kisses him more fiercely a second time, while Dean’s tongue prods at the entrance of Cas’ closed lips and plunges inside. He loves this—loves tasting Castiel, loves being on the precipice of something and not knowing where this encounter is going to take them. 

They strip as they kiss, the combination messy and sloppy and perfect, until they’re both shirtless and reaching to undo each other’s pants. Dean undoes Cas’ belt with a sudden jerk and Castiel moans into his mouth in response, unzipping Dean’s jeans quickly and immediately slipping a hand down inside his boxers.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Dean swears, the presence of Cas’ fist around his dick making his attention narrow down south very, very quickly. Castiel drops his hand long enough for Dean to kick out of his sopping wet jeans and then his boxers, until he’s bareass naked in Castiel’s office. 

Castiel manhandles him to the desk, throwing all the papers and folders and trays down in a dramatic sweep. He lifts Dean onto the desk, filling the space between his parted legs as his mouth finds Dean’s again. Dean’s breathing is erratic now, but he can hardly stop and catch his breath. Castiel is beautiful like this—sexy and dominating, single-minded in his pursuit to make Dean feel good. Their kisses turn more frantic when Dean finally unzips Castiel’s trousers and slips his hand into the front flap of Castiel’s boxers, drawing Cas closer to him and stroking their erections together. The shared rhythm feels like pure ecstasy, the weight of both dicks familiar and arousing in Dean’s hand, and they gasp and moan and kiss as Dean’s hand speeds up. 

“Slow…slow down,” Castiel breathes, and Dean does so instantly, looking at Cas curiously. “It’s just—I’ve had this fantasy…”

Dean drops his hold and grins, chest still panting. “I’m listening.”

“Could I… I’d like to fuck you on my desk,” Castiel breathes, his thumb coming to worry Dean’s bottom lip. “Would you be interested in that option?”

Dean chuckles and nods aggressively. “Understatement of the fucking century, sweetheart.” 

Castiel’s smile is so wide, his eyes already so hooded, that Dean feels a nervous fluttering in his stomach. God, he loves being on the receiving end of Cas’ thrusts, being split open by that gorgeous cock. Castiel walks backwards for a moment, very eagerly locking his office door, before walking around the front of the desk and going to the back drawer. 

“Don’t tell me…” Dean begins, but when he sees Castiel pop back up with a small bottle of lube, he laughs triumphantly. “When did you put that there?”

“Last semester, when you rubbed me dry for the better part of ten minutes,” Castiel says honestly, and Dean laughs again. When Cas kisses him again, though, any humor begins to fade from his lips. Castiel is kissing him with a goal in mind now, and it’s a subtle shift that Dean’s been intimate with Cas long enough to notice. When Cas begins to lower him sideways onto the desk, their lips break apart naturally. As Castiel squirts a generous portion of lube onto two fingers, Dean eyes that glorious cock with piqued interest. He puts his hands on Cas’ hips and leads him closer and to the right, wondering if the positioning will be good enough for him to—

“Oh, _Dean_ ,” Castiel breathes reverently, as Dean licks at the head of his cock. Dean holds it at the base, letting it rub against his lips in a teasing fashion, while Castiel reaches over and parts his asscheeks. Dean’s heart pounds in his ear when both fingers breach him, tighter and quicker than usual, though there’s practically no burning at all. Dean suspects Cas is using some sort of magic to prep him more easily, and Dean is very much on-board with this plan. He takes a deep breath when Castiel adds a third finger, then gulps Castiel’s cock down in one fluid motion, breathing through his nose as he takes Cas deeper. 

“Ohhhh, god,” Castiel cries, his hips jutting forward on instinct. Dean coughs but keeps his mouth open and wet, taking the unbusy hand hanging at Castiel’s side and planting it behind his head. Castiel takes the hit and begins to fuck Dean’s mouth for a hotly intense few moments, the rhythm of his hips following the same slide of his fingers in and out of Dean’s hole. They’re both moaning and shaking now, and when he feels Castiel’s hand tighten uncontrollably in his hair, he knows his fiancé is on the verge of coming. He pulls off with a pop, his lips shiny with spit, and Castiel looks down at him like he’s the most magnificent person to ever live. 

“How do you want me?” Dean asks, still a little breathless, his throat feeling raw from the face fucking. 

“Bent over,” Castiel replies in a deep, husky voice, and Dean swallows and nods—he knows how Cas is when he gets this focused, and he’s pretty sure he’s in store for the fucking of his life. Dean’s feet touch the floor again, Castiel’s hands on his hips and spinning him around. He’s pinned to the desk from behind, feeling only the rain tapping against his unclothed back as well as the presence of Castiel’s cock slick against his ass. He must’ve already stroked his dick with lube and Dean was too blissed out to notice.

“So beautiful,” Castiel says, parting Dean’s cheeks. “Next time, I’m going to prep you with my tongue. I’ll lick you open slowly, have you writhing around on the desk until you’re begging for my cock.”

“Jesus,” Dean breathes, feeling how squashed his erection is currently and wishing he could stroke it. “Love that dirty mouth of yours, baby.”

“That wasn’t _just_ dirty talk, Dean, that was a promise,” Castiel says, hands alternating between the curve of Dean’s back and his hips. The head of his cock breaches Dean’s entrance as Dean hisses from the mixture of pain and pleasure. Castiel enters him slowly, so cautious that Dean whimpers at one point. But finally, fucking finally, he begins to move. They’re both already so turned on and on-edge that they cry out with each thrust, the pace Castiel sets brutal as his cock slips in and out, in and out. He’s so forceful that Dean scrambles to hold onto the desk, his face turned to the side and staring at Cas’ framed PhD diploma on the wall as he gets fucked within an inch of life. 

Castiel pulls out for a moment, but before Dean can protest, he pulls Dean’s hips and then shoves his hard cock back inside. The new angle puts him much closer to Dean’s prostate, which Castiel obviously knew, because he chuckles triumphantly when Dean let’s out a wrecked cry the moment his prostate is stimulated. He nails the spot again and again, his hands iron-clad on Dean’s hips, his pace unforgivably focused as Dean feels the edges of his eyes begin to water. 

“Ah—ohh, fuck, Cas, I’m gonna—”

“Are you going to come on my desk, Dean?” Castiel asks between panting breaths. “Going to come so hard that it’s all I think about every time I sit down to work?” 

Dean arches his back, his trapped erection feeling like a livewire being lowered into a tub of water. “Jesus fuck, Cas, you kinky bastard—”

Castiel reaches his hand around, gripping Dean firmly by the neck. Somehow, that’s what does it—feeling so held down, so at Cas’ mercy, makes an eruption of white hot come sputter from the tip of Dean’s dick. He’s still crying out when he feels Castiel shout out a guttural noise, a frantic scramble for completion, and then his hole feels wet and dripping. Castiel falls against his back like a weight clamoring to the floor, and Dean clenches until his hole tightens around Cas’ over-sensitive cock. Dean moans at the intrusion, feeling truly and ecstatically stuffed full. Eventually Castiel’s dick softens and slips out and Dean rises to his elbows. Between the ever-present rain and the come slippery inside his hole, he’s not sure he’s ever felt more wet, dirty, and used in his life.

He loves every fucking minute of it. 

When he finally stands, he falls into Castiel’s arms again, their lips meeting with a soft brush that contrasts the heated fucking Dean just received. When they part, foreheads leaned against each other, Castiel murmurs with a happy, dazed grin, “Do you know what we need to do now?”

Dean laughs, feeling boneless and slightly delirious. “Um, stop the rain in your office?”

Castiel shakes his head, a gleam in his eye that makes Dean’s heart ache. “No. Well, yes, but what I meant was…” He kisses Dean again—once, twice, three times. “We need to take a step back, hire some more help at the school. Reinstate our weekly date nights. And then, set the date.”

“Set the…?” Dean blinks, trying to make sense of Cas’ words before finally grinning. “Oh! Fuck yeah. May?”

“Graduation and your brother’s birthday,” Castiel points out. 

“Uh, Cas, could you _not_ bring up Sammy when I’m still stuffed with your come?” Dean says, with a chuckle and a wince. 

Castiel laughs sheepishly and says, “June?”

“So hot, and not in a good way,” Dean complains, looping his arms around Cas’ waist. “But, I guess if it gets me married to you faster…” He kisses Castiel deeper this time, teasing him with his tongue, and Castiel hums approvingly. Dean thinks about pulling apart momentarily and telling his gorgeous fiancé Happy Valentine’s Day, but the words get lost in his throat as their kisses begin to heat up. Dean’s not sure if his ass could take another pounding so soon, but hey… It’s a holiday, they’re magicians, and he’s pretty sure he’s gonna sit down with Cas soon and pick a sweltering day in June for them to be officially, finally, wed. 

And if that’s not reason enough to rally for a round two, Dean doesn’t know _what_ is. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop us a comment and let us know if you enjoyed this little timestamp :)
> 
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> 
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> The image of the boys kissing was edited by Ellen. I was unable to find a credit for the original image, so if anyone knows, please let me know!


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